


Be Not Afraid

by RF9000 (SMT)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Markus, Demon Sex, Demonic Powers, Human AU, Incubus Connor, M/M, Markus is a bad but guilty priest, PWP, Priest AU, Priest Kink, Priest Markus, Sensory Deprivation, Top Connor, dubcon vibes? Markus thinks it's his dream so, hand jobs but with demonic powers instead of hands??? idk, idk where to draw the line between teasing and orgasm denial tbh, incubus au, sloppy use of religious verses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMT/pseuds/RF9000
Summary: It suddenly feels all too real, and Markus has to remind himself that it’s just a dream. He of all people should know how powerful the mind can be. || Markus is a priest taunted by a demon of lust as he sleeps. But it's all just a dream, isn't it?





	Be Not Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> RK1K server prompt: Markus seeing a figure in his dreams pleasuring him and he just thinks it's a wet dream but then it begins to feel more real One day he sees someone just like the man from his dream and chaos unfolds.

He wakes again to the cloying heat. It’s everywhere, choking him from the inside out as he struggles for breath. He’s burning, he’s sure of it, even as the wet heat teases his shaft, if only to show Markus he knows nothing yet of true fire. There is a presence there, at his hips, something that has come to be familiar over the past weeks, but that doesn’t calm the thundering of his heart, his fear still as electric as the first time he awoke to something prowling his room.

_When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise - in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?_

But the presence is his room is not a mere mortal.

_For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, do not fear; I will help you._

Something brushes against his right hand.

He gasps, and the air is caught in his throat; thick and heavy like smoke, the air presses down upon him, offering no relief to his feverish skin. Markus feels something claw at his inner thighs, and his eyes fly open, though his room is as dark as it is hot and Markus can make out nothing, the usual moonlit glow that filters through his windows mysteriously absent. He tries to sit up, but finds that he can’t, as if there were a great weight on his chest, though his hands can find nothing there when they investigate.

His panic is replaced by something else - or perhaps heightened - as the presence takes his aching cock in its mouth (and Markus is certain by now it’s a mouth) and laves at it with its tongue. Markus moans, low and guttural, and fights against the weight on his chest to arch his back, to no avail; he’s pinned there, completely at the mercy yet again to this force until it decides it is done with him.

That might be sooner than usual, Markus realises, as he feels the mouth withdraw soon, too soon, and his dick twitches pathetically, already missing the attention. The air changes suddenly, lightening a little. It’s easier to breathe and Markus swears he can feel air surrounding him grin as it caresses his skin, cooling him slightly.

Yet the shallow relief he feels does little to quench the heat raging inside him, the latter only growing stronger as the creature breathes against Markus’ length, promising so much but giving so little. Frustrated, he bucks his hips, but this achieves nothing but the darkness coiling round his legs and immobilising him there too. With Markus’ legs under its hold, the presence spreads them a little, shifting its attention to his thighs as it mouths at the delicate skin there, pulling bruises to the surface of the skin as it sucks, keeping all the right attention in all the wrong places.

“Please,” he pants, and he feels something sharp scratch at his skin in a fanged smile. He has yet to be bitten by the creature and Markus shivers at the thought, his heart beating faster as he feels something brush against his length. Light as a feather it strokes him, before suckling lightly at the tip, making him jerk. But, once again, as soon his pleasure starts to mount, the presence leaves, dropping back to Markus’ open thighs and resuming its task of marking his skin.

The air changes again, like it usually does when the creature seems to be mocking him, and Markus’ head drops back on his pillow with a growl. He can’t fucking believe he’s being denied in his own wet dream.

 _Again_.

 _Fuck this_ , he thinks. He knows he can’t lift his torso, but his arms are still mobile. So, with a grunt, Markus reached for himself, determined to get release.

The air turns sharp, and Markus finds his hand knocked away with surprising force, and pinned back next to him as if bound by invisible ropes. He grapples at it with his free hand, but there’s nothing to feel, and no knot to untie.

He has but one limb left, which Markus is actually slightly thankful for, as he feels seconds away from kicking his legs in a pathetic kind of tantrum.

“What do you _want_ from me?” He says out loud, trying to ignore the whine that’s crept into his voice.

He doesn’t even know why he asks. The creature has never spoken to him before, or answered his questions. It probably can’t even speak. Hell, it might not even understand him at all.

The predictable silence ticks by and Markus sighs, flexing his fingers and wondering what would happen if he were to try again and become completely immobilised. He starts when he feels the mattress buckle, as if a person had just crawled on top of him.

Markus eyes are wide but still useless, the dark pressing against them relentlessly as they roll in their sockets.

The creature has never manifested physically before.

A hand ghosts over his cock and Markus fails to suppress a shudder as it travels slowly, lightly, upwards. It traces over his stomach, dips in between his abs - pauses as he tenses slightly - before skirting over his pecs. A thumb brushes over his nipple, fingers soft as smoke lovingly caresses his collarbone.

Even if he weren’t supernaturally bound, Markus wouldn’t have been able to move. To have the creature so close, so solid…. Markus didn’t know if he was scared of what would happen, or scared that the creature would leave.

There’s a tickling about his throat and Markus realises that the creature is toying with the crucifix at his neck, flicking the delicate metal cross and pulling it taut against the slim silver chain it dangles from.

It has served as little protection from the darkness and the creature seems to share this thought - Markus feels something rumble against his chest as if the being is laughing. It tugs hard and the chain breaks, and suddenly the mouth that had been teasing him so is at his neck.

Markus’ hot skin is met with an even hotter tongue, impossibly sharp teeth digging into his throat as the kisses get rougher and Markus instinctively brings up his free hand to the creature’s head. His fingers find soft curls and he can’t help but gasp at how _human_ it feels against his skin. His eyes - which had fluttered closed - were open again, still blind, still searching.

He felt lips move against his ear.

“Careful, Father,” The voice, too, sounds so heartbreakingly human. A little hoarse, but nothing you would expect of a creature of darkness. “Do you think your mortal eyes could behold my form without consequence?”

“I don't know,” he murmurs. “Why don't we find out?”

Markus feels that rumbling against his chest again. “Humans are always so foolhardy.” The creature pauses to nip at his ear. “Especially when their judgement is clouded by lust.”

Markus opens his mouth to retort, but found that nothing came out. Not content with his sight and his limbs, the demon - for that's what it was, Markus was sure of it - had now bound his voice, too.

The demon laughs and shifts atop him, grinding against his aching erection. Markus groans and reaches for the form above him, but the weight on top of him suddenly vanishes with a hiss.

Markus tries to curse, but the words stick in his throat, so he settles for slamming his fist against the mattress instead.

This is slow torture. Markus is being eaten alive by the fire inside him, and the demon does nothing but stoke it to burn brighter with no promise of release in sight.

His fingers find his crucifix atop his mussed sheets, tossed carelessly aside by the demon. He rolls it between finger and thumb, hoping for some kind of respite or protection from the Lord. Markus cannot bring himself to actually pray when he can feel his cock resting heavily against his lower stomach, dripping pearls of precum onto his flushed skin - it all feels too blasphemous.

But his ploy has worked, and the demon takes note - Markus feels his knees bend as his legs draw back up towards his body, exposing him fully to the presence settled between his thighs. Markus shivers at this new feeling of vulnerability and squirms against his bonds, but finds himself only more excited by how firmly they keep him in check, especially so when he feels his crucifix prised from him fingers and pressed against his parted lips. Instinctively, Markus takes the figure between his teeth and is rewarded by a squeeze to his ass.

He’s expecting it, but still nearly chokes on the crucifix when he feels something lightly probe at his entrance. It’s not human - not fingers, or tongue, but something else, something light, wispy, and curious. A groan rasps at his throat as the tendrils work their way into him, expanding and stiffening once they’re inside.

He feels so full already, and can’t even squirm, his chest and hips still weighed down by some invisible force. Markus spits out the crucifix and bites his lip instead, toes curling as the thing inside him starts to pulsate, sending a delicious ripple of pleasure up his spine.

Tendrils of the same force currently caressing his hole chase the waves of pleasure washing over Markus’ body; they writhe over him, fondling his sac, rolling his nipples and coiling about his throat.

He groans and twists the sheets beneath him, trying to keep his remaining hand to himself. He wants to touch himself _so much_ but knows it’s fruitless to try.

The whispered _fuck_ dies on his lips as the tendrils start to move slowly, gently. He feels something trickle out of him and through the haze of pleasure Markus takes a moment to marvel at the concept of self lubricating demon tentacles. How convenient.

The coils inside of him fuck him harder, giving way to that torturous ache in his back as the tendrils skillfully avoid the one place Markus wishes they’d touch - all it would take is one nudge, and he can’t even move his hips to help himself along.

It’s exhausting being this close, and maddening being unable to move. He can feel his sweat collecting in the hollow at his throat where his crucifix once lay, and wonders just how long this can last before something gives.

Perspiration beads across his brow, and Markus feels clawed fingers entwine with his, untangling his hands from the sheets and guiding him towards his neglected cock. The fingers leave his, and are immediately replaced with a mouth that sucks and laps at each twitching digit. Markus almost sobs when he finds his own hand wrapped around his length. He starts to pump and feels the fingers of darkness enveloping him move in time, the thrusts growing rougher as his movements grow more unhinged.

Something finally - _finally_ \- presses against that precious spot inside of him and his mouth opens in a silent scream, words still out of reach for him. His head thrashes from side to side on his rumpled pillow, tears collecting in the corner of his eyes as the unfettered parts of his body jerk.

_PleasepleaseletmemovemyhipspleaseIneedthisIwantthispleasepleaseplease_

A pulse of energy surges throughout the room and Markus shivers, his breath stuttering as he feels the creature’s other form manifest inside him physically, filling him in a completely different way than its powers had. The creatures hips snap against him and it’s just like being fucked by a man, just like what Markus has been denying himself for so long.

And it's as if the creature yet again knows his thoughts as it leans down to breathe in his ear. “Let go, Father.”

Markus unravels beneath it.

Everything seems to shatter at once: the force holding Markus in place, the creature’s form, and Markus’s broken voice as he calls to god again and again from the embrace of a demon.

He pants as the demon withdraws, realising his body is his own again. He stretches his cramped muscles and rubs at his wrist, trying to ignore the sticky residue that pools on his stomach and leaks onto his sheets.

He’s used to seeing stars by this point but his vision is actually clearing, and for the first time in what feels like years he can see his ceiling, with all its cracks and stray cobwebs. The dull moonlight is casting a weak glow on his room, outlining everything with a slice of silver, including the black shape still straddling him.

It’s darker than pitch and seems to draw all visible light into its void. Markus remembers the curls he felt earlier but can see no discernible features outside of the outline.

Though he may be unbound, Markus still does not move. It suddenly feels all too real, and Markus has to remind himself that it’s just a dream.

He of all people should know how powerful the mind can be.

But that doesn’t stop the words that fall from his lips next, his first unfettered words feeling like they’re not even his own. “Who are you?”

The creature says nothing, but leans forward, reaching towards him to cup his face. Markus’s skin feels like it’s sparking at its touch, and from where their bodies connect Markus sees the darkness peel away to reveal unnaturally pale skin beneath.

Swallowing hard, Markus finally lets himself look up to meet the eyes of the creature.

Its pupils weren’t slit like he’d expected but fully blown, so only a small sliver of colour could be seen, spinning red, yellow, blue. They glow amidst the soft planes of his face, the gentle features somehow casting angular shadows. His hair falls in soft brown waves, the moonlight creating in them a halo that mocks the horns that protrude from his temples.

The line between human and creature seems to shift and blur with every motion it makes and Markus thinks of angels.

_Be not afraid._

Did they look like this? Not quite human, not quite monster, but close enough to confuse the eye and unsettle the stomach.

“Connor,” The creature says, and its teeth are sharp, too sharp. “My name is Connor.”

Darkness falls.

 

* * *

 

Markus wakes with a start, eyes squinting against the early morning light. Sunday. Not a day off for him. He glances to his clock, pleased to see it’s only a little past six. He sighs and closes his eyes, intending to allow himself a little lie in. As his body starts to relax, Markus feels an odd stiffness in his thighs, an ache at his back, and his eyes fly open. He sits up with a start, noticing his rumpled sheets and the residue on his abs. Another eventful night, it seemed.

Markus groans and buries his head in his hands. When were these dreams going to _end_? Yes, he denied himself more than he should, but this was getting ridiculous. Especially when he was imagining himself being seduced by an actual creature of darkness - such a schoolboy fantasy deserved nothing less than a hearty eyeroll in his books.

He throws back the sheets, determined not to give his horny brain another chance to embarrass itself. If that meant showering at such an ungodly hour on a Sunday then so be it. He deserved it for all this bullshit.

Markus hisses as the cold water struck his skin, leaning against the tile to help him endure his punishment. He rubs at his neck, confused to find his chain missing. Had he dropped it? The last thing he needed was to literally wash jesus down the drain after last night. He squints down, hoping he wasn’t about to witness his Lord and Saviour tumbling down the plughole. Nothing, but what caught his eyes was perhaps much worse.

Fresh purple bruises bloom across his skin and red scratches criss-cross his thighs. Marks that he could not possibly have made himself.

 _Connor_.

Markus fumbles with the shower, shutting it off. He is shaking, but not from the cold.

_Do not be afraid of those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell._

Be not afraid.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the bad use of bible passages. I had a christian upbringing but am now agnostic so i just googled some verses on fear and picked some that seemed to fit ^^;
> 
> I have some unused scraps so I might add a second chapter if I can be bothered aha.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://rf9000.tumblr.com) if you'd like <3


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